Featherflame
by firefight14
Summary: the telling of the great bloody war that had been waged between the forces of nightwings, and Icewings. It all began with the curious scroll-hunter, Featherflame. posted sample-chapter only! story will be begun if it gains sufficient attention
this is set before WOF, and is my take on the nightwing/icewing war.

this isn't chronological, but only a sample chapter. if anybody likes it, i'll map out the entire story and start for real.

* * *

A scavenger crept among the rocks. Bowed low, almost in half, it ran in quick bursts, near-silently sprinting between boulders. A makeshift tie of horizontal leaves probably served to keep the sun from its eyes. A leather pouch strung with bits of stone and feathers hung across its shoulders.  
it threw itself, panting, behind an oblong mound of reddish stone and froze, eyes wide and watchful. There was an unmistakable smell in the air, an irresistible smell. The smell of cooking meat.  
there were also deep gashes, scars across the stone. The scavenger glanced at them, thick and jagged and threatening, these along with the unmistakable ashy, sulfuric smell could only speak of one thing; Dragons.

Dragons, the ultimate predators. Hunters of the skies. A scavenger could be easily swallowed whole by one of the beasts. But the smell was so very irresistible…  
The scavenger crept forward, this time more slowly with its back pressed to sun-heated rock, head angled away from the sun…  
A few more steps over cracked sunbaked stone, with its scattering of stringy weeds, and it rounded the large boulder that hid the origin of the delicious smell from view.  
a neat pile of stones lay in the middle of a clearing. Flames flickered, weak from the bright daylight from between the sticks and logs piled up within, and something lay roasting at its top, lain across a thin forearm-length slab. The scavenger walked closer, curious.

five splayed, brownish fingers. Thick reddish fluid sizzling around the digits. The scavenger barely had time to cry out in horror and surprise at the sight of the human hand, the roasting human hand that led him with it's scent, before something huge, silent, black as night darted from the side. The scavenger tried to drop, or run, a shriek of unbridled horror tearing from its throat, but the thick jaws closed easily around its middle, and with a crunch, the creature was silenced.

* * *

Featherflame stayed crouched and panting for another minute, blood dripping from the slack body in his jaws.  
then he twitched, and nearly dropped the scavenger in shock. A slow smile crept on his face.  
 _I did it! I actually did it!  
_ he felt like leaping and dancing in joy, but a spike of pain in his stomach stopped him. The nightwing dropped the corpse into his hand and approached the fire. The hand was still roasting—a remainder from his last catch. When had that been? Four, five days ago? It seemed that the only things that lived on these desolate crags were scavengers and skywings. He tossed the morsel in his mouth and carefully scanned the sky. No red or copper wings on the horizon—good.

He really didn't feel like meeting any of those famous skywing grouches just yet. At least not in the state that he was in. his wings and paws ached, and a migraine was starting to pound behind his eyes from hours lying uncomfortably cramped in wait, but he couldn't allow himself rest before vanishing all signs of himself. The fire had been made as an approximation of what a scavenger would make, bust still he couldn't risk the skywings landing closer to investigate and possibly catching his scent. He moved to dispose of it, smothering the flames with a swipe of his tail that sent clouds of dust settling over it, then he swiped his tail again, sweeping the small mound of carefully piled sticks and stones regretfully into a shaded cleft between boulders. A pity, it had really taken a long time to make.  
and it had worked. Featherflame shivered ins satisfaction.

it was hard to clamber from even the low mound with just three legs and one wing, but the Nightwing made it to the flatter, bush-peppered area with little trouble. There, he had left his own scroll-stuffed pack and two smaller packs that had once belonged to scavengers carefully hidden among the stones. He slung his own pack over his shoulder, and draped the two little ones over the claws already occupied by the dead scavenger. He could of course simply stuff all of them into his scroll-pack, but he doubted the Queen would very much appreciate bloodstained writings. He sure as the moons wouldn't.  
now.  
Which was the way to Night-city?

* * *

This is my first WOF fic. i've always loved dragons, and writing a story with all main characters being dragons seems like great fun. ^_^i'm still kind anew to fanfic writing, so please tell me what you think of my story both style and plot wise. i'd also totally love it if someone could possibly beta for me, cause i'm terrible at editing.


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